


Lost In Translation

by liberbro



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, FMA AU, Multi, al and mei are college age here, al really has some terrible luck, almei - Freeform, but it's ok in the end, late night pillow talk, spot the cameos from FMA characters, these dweebs like to use fancy words, travel!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 00:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberbro/pseuds/liberbro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missed Flights, Runaway Cats and Chocolate Croissants all lead to Al making some Very Questionable Decisions.<br/>
OR<br/>
The Universe is against Alphonse Elric and he kinda likes it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost In Translation

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeeee my first ever fic! I'm not sure what to say here, but as far as important things about the fic:  
> \- It's a modern AU set in Paris  
> \- The characters use multiple languages, so to differentiate between them, ordinary text is French, **bold** is German, _italics_ are English and **_bold italics_** are Mandarin  
>  \- Each chapter is titled with a word from another language that cannot be translated into English  
> Inspired by http://auideas.tumblr.com/post/119531881042/un-chaotic-words-au  
> DISCLAIMER - The characters from Fullmetal Alchemist that feature in this fic are not mine, and believe me, if they were, I would be making another season, not writing this  
> (leaving the fic unrated because I have no idea where it's going)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fernweh - German; noun - The longing to travel; missing a place you've never been

Plane windows do not open.

Alphonse Elric knew this, of course, but that didn’t stop him furiously scrabbling on the glass as if he could scratch right through it. As if there was any point to his futile attempts to escape what he had already deemed ‘the flying metal death trap’, because as far as he was aware, squeezing out of a suffocatingly small window while 40000 feet in the air was maybe probably definitely not a good idea.

Al estimated the odds of him surviving such a drop, and maybe landing on something that _wasn’t_ a block of cement, in the corner of his mind (after all, he was still quite preoccupied), and slumped back in his seat dejectedly, a petulant expression making his face even more boyish than usual.

He didn’t like his chances.

“ **Oh great, now people are staring** ”, Al muttered to himself, blood flowing to his cheeks at the amused gazes of his fellow passengers. He shrunk more into himself. Al hated it when people stared at him, something that happened too often for his liking. He didn’t know what it was about him, but it was like he had some magnetic field that attracted curious looks. Ed always said it was his height. But that was just because Ed was so short that anyone above 5”11 was an absolute giant. The stares didn’t bother him _that_ much, normally, but now he didn’t have Ed to rely on to watch his back.

Leaning back into the annoyingly comfortable seat (Al refused to admit that there could be anything _good_ about planes), he kicked off his immaculately polished shoes and glanced at his watch – Swiss, natch, they kept time like no others and if there was one thing Al hated more than planes, it was being late – only to see they’d only been in the air for 20 minutes.

That meant 65 long, loooooong minutes, Al would be touching down in Paris. He had precious time on holy ground before being corralled onto yet _another_ plane, this one heading to San Francisco.

11 and a half hours of pure hell.

Now that was something Al was _not_ looking forward to.

He thought of his warm, familiar bed in Munich, the textbooks arranged in alphabetical order and colour coded by subject on his standard issue dorm room desk, and sighed. Only 64 minutes to go.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere over Belgium, the quiet stuffiness and muffled coughs of strangers finally got to Al, and he drifted off, head resting against the oh-so-despised unopenable window, a glob of drool dribbling down his tan chin.

It was when the plane hit the runway in Paris that Al was jolted out of his slumber. He grinned like a man off Death Row and jiggled his leg impatiently. The threat of an even _longer_ flight loomed in front of him, but it wasn’t quite so terrifying anymore.

Al was visiting his dad, the ‘Esteemed Hohenheim, PhD in bastardry’, as his ever affectionate brother had taken to referring to him as, in San Fran, to help him with his research. Ed had sworn when Al broke the news to him.

“Dumbass, why would you want to spend time with _him_?!” Ed exclaimed incredulously, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Al had just smiled gently and reassured Ed the just because he was seeing their dad, didn’t mean he _liked_ him.

Al didn’t like to lie, but sometimes it was necessary.

Al suspected that, deep down, Ed was jealous. Both brothers were extraordinary scientists in their respective fields, yet it was Al who was chosen to go to America. Not that Ed would’ve said yes, anyway.

More than anything, the brothers were just reluctant to be apart. Ed, mostly. They’d been all each other had for so long, since… it happened. Not having the other by their side had become an unfamiliar and unwelcome sensation. Al didn’t want to leave Ed either, but sometimes his older brother could be a bit… much. He loved him with all the love his heart could muster, but Al had suffered through morning lectures for one whole year and god _dammit_ , if he was offered a free holiday, he was going to _take it_.

A grin slowly spread its way across Al’s face at the thought of finally getting to America. A word echoed in his mind. Voorpret. A Dutch word, for the feeling of excitement before an event. Pre-fun, if you like. His English was impeccable, and his soul yearned for a taste of foreign culture. God, just thinking of all the food he would eat was going to make his mouth water in the middle of baggage claim. His itinerary for the trip was planned to a tee. Squeezed in between days at the lab, Al had even made time for antique shopping. If Alphonse Elric was going to one of the biggest cities in the U S of A, then he sure as hell was going to leave with a new vintage teapot.

 

* * *

 

“ **Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our destination, Paris. The local time is 12.17. We hope you enjoyed your flight. Thank you for flying Lufthansa, have a nice day and enjoy your stay!”**

If there was a world record for fastest time taken to get off a plane, Al was fairly sure he’d just smashed it into pieces, thrown it on the floor and jumped up and down on it. He scrambled out of his seat and shot down the aisle onto the suspended walkway with the air of a man being chased by a bloodthirsty rhinoceros – although not without smiling politely and thanking the flight attendants first, because after all, he _was_ Alphonse Elric and he was a Nice Guy.

He almost sank to his feet when his feet embraced solid ground, at last. The lady standing by the gate looked slightly disconcerted by the giddy grin Al was flashing her, but hey! As long as he didn’t have to worry about plunging to his fiery death, Al didn’t have a care in the world.

 

* * *

 

A lone teddy bear slowly rotated past him.

Al blinked twice.

A little girl squealed as her father leaned over and plucked the bear out of the mêlée of luggage.

Al always liked this part of airports. There was something pleasing about the atmosphere. It was exhaustion with an edge of excitement. The little girl was on her dad’s shoulders now, squawking as he pretended to drop her and giggling that laugh of pure unadulterated joy that only children could have. Al’s heart warmed at the sound.

Most of the other passengers were long gone by the time Al’s bag appeared on the carousel. One of the disadvantages of always being early so first to load your luggage onto the plane. The khaki duffel bag was sandwiched between a battered guitar case, covered in colourful stickers from what looked like every country in Europe, and a bright purple suitcase secured with a leopard print strap.

Al liked to travel light, unlike Ed (why did he need two pairs of hair straighteners for a weekend away, anyway?!). It gave him more freedom. Anyway, Hohenheim had insisted on buying Al some new clothes once he arrived in San Francisco and any university student who says no to an offer like _that_ is either a really, _really_ selfless person, or completely nuts.

As Al strode towards customs, he saw the purple suitcase being retrieved by some biker type guy with intricate tattoos and wild, grey hair. Al chuckled as he walked. People surprised him in the most pleasant ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pheeeeew! Sorry this chapter wasn't very eventful, but there will be action in the next chapter! Thanks for reading! x


End file.
